The Good Samaritan Lot

“This parking lot is open until full.

Brought to you by the Church

across the way. Give what you can.

Pay it forward. Come again.”

Despite the red paint peeling back,

the sign still read All Are Welcome.


I sobbed in my car

while the waitress

from the pretentious lunch

we’d attended

twenty minutes prior

smoked her cigarette

and pretended not to notice

the rivers of mascara

flowing down my face.


The waitress “didn’t notice”

not because she was cruel,

but because of my stubborn pride

and all. The cigarette ash

fell to the green earth.


I drove away, wanting to hit the gas

but circled back to where I started

Stuffed ten dollars into the donation box


And for the first time that long-ago day,

it was enough.  It was simply enough.